


A Dalliance In Time

by Indieblue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Comedy, Death, Did I Mention A Lip Ring?, Dumbledore Bashing, Dumbledore is a dick, Dumblerage, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Family, Graphic Description, Horcrux Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Lip Ring Remus Lupin, M/M, Marauders, Minor Canonical Character(s), Multiverse, Original Character(s), Present Tense, Sex, The Golden Trio Time Travel Together, Time Travel, Violence, Wizarding Wars, Women Being Badasses, You Shall Feel All The Dumblerage, lip ring, other dimension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indieblue/pseuds/Indieblue
Summary: "There's a familiar metallic smell in the air, it's tangy and the very memory of it makes a ball of dread curl up tightly in her gut. It feels like she's not quite in her body, the soles of her feet itch, her head feels light and woolly, as if it's been stuffed full of cotton." - Remione time travel. Non-canon.





	1. A Slip Through Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SableUnstable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SableUnstable/gifts), [laisvega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisvega/gifts).



> Hello Hello!  
> This is one of my other stories that I am slowly posting all of the chapters that I currently have up on ffnet.  
> Dalliance is one of my favourite things I've written to date, and it is also the most recent.  
> Please, please leave me a comment and let me know what you think. I hope you all enjoy it immensely x

**Wednesday, August 19th, 1998**

**Grimmauld Place**

**Islington, London, England**

   She stares into the piping hot liquid in the hot cup, but she ignores the stinging feeling on her palms; she knows that her skin is most likely a vibrant red now from the heat. She is almost entranced by the way the steam curls and billows from the black liquid. Her coffee is black, with a slight sweet tinge from the two sugars she had plopped into the cup a few minutes ago.

  Currently she was sitting on the kitchen counter-mug in hand-noticing that her companions had been addressing her, she tilts her face upwards, light brown eyes darting from one boy to the next. Letting out a soft sigh through her nostrils, she lowers her mug until it is resting against her thighs-feeling the heat through the denim material of her shorts.

  “Hermione?” the raven haired boy’s eyebrows shoot up, almost disappearing underneath his messy mop, his bright green eyes are shining from behind his round, wire-rimmed glasses. He is twirling a sickle between his fingers, his forearms are resting on the granite counter beside her, bent at the waist as he rests all of his weight on his arms.

   “Sorry, Harry, what did you say?” Hermione purses her lips, cocking her head to the side.

   “We were just talking about the rubbish Ministry function that Mum wants us to go to,” Ron snorts, “since we’re ‘ _ war heroes’  _ and all that hogwash.”

   “Thought you enjoyed all the attention, Ronald,” Hermione teases lightly.

   “It was nice...for the first couple weeks, but blimey Hermione. A bloke can’t even go out for a pint before being hounded by a swarm of people,” Ron scowls, his ginger hair is cropped close to his head, and there is a bit of a scruff along his cheeks and his jaw, his bright blue eyes are shining with annoyance. 

   Even sitting on a counter that is almost four feet tall, Ron is still a lot taller than her.

   It is just over two months since the war had ended and Voldemort was defeated. At first the initial euphoria was enough to keep the nightmares at bay, but all too quickly they were reminded that getting back to normalcy was going to be a long, arduous road. Slight, sudden noises make them jump, and they always draw their wands and hurriedly turn towards the source of the sound. All too often had they been greeted by a creaking window or one of their close friends heading into the kitchen for a snack.

   Their wands are never out of reach, and it isn’t unusual to find the golden trio as many like to call them, all sharing a bed. The nightmares that terrorise their dreams skulk back into the shadows and darkness from whence they came when they cling together at night; or at least that’s what they like to tell themselves.

  Hermione taps her index finger against her wide, white ceramic mug. Something feels off.

  “Does anyone else feel weird?” Hermione wonders aloud-glancing from Harry to Ron-who had been joking about one thing or another whilst she was drifting off into thought.

  “No, I feel fine,” Ron answers after a moment of thought, but his hand is still hovering over his wand, which is resting on the counter beside Hermione’s thigh.

  “Hermione...you look kind of glowy,” Harry frowns.

  “Glowy?” Hermione asks skeptically, “Harry, that’s absurd.”

  “No, he’s right, Hermione, it’s like there’s this-”

   Ron is cut off when the faint, white glowing light that was surrounding Hermione, pulses brightly. He takes a step back, flinching, blinking in shock as spots dance in front of his eyes. Ron grabs ahold of his wand, his other hand fumbling to grab onto Hermione’s arm.

  “What the hell-” Harry says, eyes squeezing tightly shut.

  Hermione blinks blankly, she wasn’t seeing this bright light they keep going on about, it wasn’t until she looks down at her hands that she notices her skin looks slightly translucent, as if she is fading in and out of existence. She glances to her left and sees that Ron is also undergoing whatever is happening to her. She turns to her right and notices Harry still looks solid.

  “Harry!” Hermione cries, spilling some of her coffee on her thigh in her haste to grab onto the raven haired wizard. She barely feels the scalding liquid soak through her shorts and splash on her exposed skin, or the way her wand is pressing into her side from her front pocket.

  “What’s happen-” Harry says, but he is cut off as a bright burst of pure white light erupts from Hermione’s abdomen around her bellybutton-a weird tingle scratching incessantly from inside her-engulfing the two boys.

   When the light fades, all that is left in the kitchen to indicate that they had even been there at all is a few drops of spilled coffee that are littered to the left of where Hermione had been seated.

* * *

  There’s a faint buzzing noise and she swears that she hears a whistling sound. Her head is pounding, she can feel her temple pulsing.

   She blinks rapidly, but there are small blue spots dancing in front of her eyes, she can see what looks like a thick layer of ash covering the cracked bits of concrete that are scattered on the outskirts the dirt patch.

It makes no sense, there should be dark-stained wooden floors around them, she should be  _ sitting. _ However she's standing upright, and as the spots begin to clear she looks left and right and sees that Harry and Ron look just as out of it as she does.

  There’s a familiar metallic smell in the air, it’s tangy and the very memory of it makes a ball of dread curl up tightly in her gut. 

   It feels like she’s not quite in her body, the soles of her feet itch, her head feels light and woolly, as if it's been stuffed full of cotton.

  “Get down!” A voice that she knows all too well yells, pushing her behind them as they throw up a protego, she can sense someone else behind her and the distinct smells of dark magic is clinging to the air around them.

  Sharply, she snaps back into her body, her eyes finally coming into focus and she sees that they are in the middle of a crumbling building, huge chunks of broken walls surrounding the dirt below their feet. The ceiling is no longer there, and she feels the cold wind whistling through the building, and a raindrop falls on her cheek. 

   She can vaguely hear the sound of the ceramic mug breaking apart as it falls from her hand, the hot liquid flying everywhere.

   Hermione’s instincts kick in, and it’s almost as if they’re right in the thick of the war again, all too easily do they ward off the attacks that are flying their way. Flashes of multi-coloured light are flying back and forth, and the memories of everyone's deaths are still too fresh, and she sees listless eyes and bloodless faces in her mind as she wards off curse after curse.

   Harry and Ron’s shoulders are both brushing hers as their backs are all turned to each other, forming a defensive triangle, protecting each other as they have for years.

Hermione spots another mess of raven hair, and she catches a glimpse of  _ his  _ face as he pops up from behind some rubble to fire a curse off into the other direction.

  The Death Eaters are letting up, or at least she guesses they have to be Death Eaters from the familiar masks they are wearing. So she gently prods Harry with her elbow and jerks her head in the direction of the wizard she had seen a few moments prior.

  “No bloody way,” Harry whispers, and she exhales deeply.  _ No bloody way is right. _

  Moments later the Death Eaters are all fleeing, their numbers greatly diminished, and Hermione takes a deep breath, and the confusion is back. They simply  _ can't _ be where... _ when _ she thinks they are.

   Then Hermione feels a hand wrap around her throat, a wand presses into her side, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees whoever is going to grab Harry freeze in their tracks.

  “Fuck, Prongs, he looks just like you.”


	2. Something Feels Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I thought I should mention that wix is the collective plural for any combination of witches and wizards, I tend to forget that a lot of people don't know what it means, so I thought I'd let you know from early.  
> Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think!

**Thursday, February 8th, 1979**

     Something feels weird. From the moment he wakes up he knows that something is about to shift. Drastically.

   He tries to explain it to Sirius when the raven haired wizard comes out of the shower, towel wrapped lowly around his hips, rubbing at his damp locks with a smaller, white towel.  _ “Maybe we should postpone the mission until tomorrow,”  _ Remus had tried to say, but it fell on deaf ears.  _ “We’ll be fine Moony, you worry too much.” _

    Of course he did, with James and Sirius as his best mates he had to worry, they were constantly reckless and rash, although James had always been easier to reason with. Remus worried about Peter too, their shorter friend was  _ good _ , he was kind and he always made sure that they had their homework done and they had eaten for the day. Remus didn't want the war to destroy Peter, like he had seen it destroy so many people and families so far, even before they were out of school.

   They had protected mostly from the real war until they graduated, then they had been thrust into a cruel, vastly different world. All of the advanced spells that their teachers had tried to teach them in the last couple years at Hogwarts came in handy and most of the time, they were what saved their lives each day. 

    It was simply meant to be a reconnaissance mission, nothing more, or they never would have sent fresh faced, eager eighteen year olds out by themselves. 

  They figure out too late that it is an ambush, and before they can blink, it is a fight for their lives. Remus swallows thickly as he hears a shrill cry and a loud thump from across the way where Mary was just hit by a bright orange spell. She is now convulsing on the ground, he can hear her teeth clicking together, even from over here and it makes him wince.

   Sweat is gathering on his brow, and he dares not take the time to wipe it away, focusing on throwing curses and shielding himself from the ones being hurled his way.

   A single drop of sweat runs from his right temple down his face, and a burst of smells explode into the area, consuming his senses and overshadowing the metallic smell of blood and the sour smell of death.

  He glances to his right and he sees three disoriented wix standing in the open, completely vulnerable.

_ Who are they? _ Remus can't determine if the new arrivals are friend or foes, but the air around them is crackling and sizzling with magic.

  He tries to keep one eye on them, but they aren't attacking anyone, the girl drops her mug and whips her wand out of her front pocket. Instead their backs hit each other's and they’re defending themselves. They're aiming at the people in masks and none of the Order. They also don't look frightened, as most people their age would. They look seasoned, fierce,  _ dangerous _ .

   They are dressed strangely, especially for the weather. The girl is in denim shorts, trainers and what looks like a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey, but he can't be certain. Honey brown curls are cascading down her back, creamy white skin, warm brown eyes. He feels a strange pull to her, and he can't quite describe it.

   The shorter boy is pale, with a messy mop of raven hair, black wire rimmed glasses, with bright green eyes; and Remus can’t help but think that he’s seen those eyes before. He’s tall, and whilst on the thinner side he looks lithe, and as he shouts a spell, he looks strong and determined.  _ He looks exactly like James _ , Remus thinks in surprise.

  The final member of their group is  _ tall _ , Remus thinks perhaps he’s taller than him, he towers over the female, but as he watches her move he doesn't doubt that she could cut him down if she really wanted. He’s got a shock of ginger hair, pale skin, freckles covering him, bright blue eyes and despite being so tall, with such long limbs, he still looks like he could take a few hits and dish them out.

   Remus feels another pull and it makes no sense, but it feels scarily like a Pack bond linking him to the raven haired boy.

   The two boys are dressed similarly, faded jeans, the taller wearing a navy blue, long-sleeved shirt, and James's doppelganger is wearing a slate grey vest, his arm muscles flexing as he throws spell after spell.

   Then the Death Eaters are retreating, and the three wix in the middle of the action stop throwing spells, but they aren't quite relaxed either. Remus feels a harsh tap on his shoulder, and catches a glimpse of shoulder length raven locks and an all black ensemble.  _ Sirius. _ Remus quickly follows after him, and with a nod and a jerk of his chin towards the three wix, Remus understands what his best mate wants.

   It happens before he can properly think about it, and next thing he knows they're holding  _ them _ at wand point. Remus has got a hold of the ginger wizard, and his suspicions were correct; he is taller than Remus, by at least four inches.

   Remus can hear movement back behind the rubble and he knows that the others are tending to the wounded. Peter and Dorcas. Mary was dead, and he couldn't remember the names of the other two wix that had joined them on their mission, and it makes him feel wretched. They may die amongst people who don't even know their names.

   Then Sirius says the words that change everything. It's not just in Remus's imagination, his best mates see it too.  

   “ _ Fuck Prongs. He looks just like you.” _


	3. Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think :)

  A gentle drizzle is beginning, Remus feels it lightly hitting him, and he looks at his companions and sees that there are tiny, dark spots appearing on their shirts. The water droplets are falling onto James's and his look-alike’s glasses, and he can see the small droplets are beginning to gather on the others’ skin.

  “Who are you?” Remus watches as Sirius grabs the boy that looks startlingly like James by the face. The boy is gazing at Sirius in wonder, and doesn't seem overtly bothered by the fact that Sirius is squishing his face.

   “Harry-” The boy begins, but his female companion steps forward, and Remus catches a glance of James on his left as he tightens his grip on the girl.

   “Don’t tell them your last name,” the girl says calmly.

   “Why shouldn’t he do that,  _ pet _ ?” Sirius sneers at the girl, and Remus rolls his eyes. Even when suspicious Sirius couldn’t help himself from flirting with pretty girls.

   “Because you wouldn’t believe us,” the girl says, from this angle Remus could tell that her brow is knitted together, however she doesn't look worried. It was almost as if the three of them know  _ exactly _ who they are.

   “Oi, mate. Lupin,” the tall, lithe, ginger haired man that Remus is currently holding at wand point grunts, “your grip round my neck is a bit tight.” Remus hadn’t even noticed that he was squeezing down on the boy’s throat, and he immediately loosens his grip.

   “How do you know his name?” Sirius’s head snaps in the boy’s direction, grey eyes sharp and alert.

   “Hermione, can we just  _ bloody _ tell them? They’re just getting more agitated with how vague our answers are,” the ginger haired boy sighs.

   “Ronald,” the girl starts, head turning toward him, leaning forward so their eyes meet, “we don’t want to mess with the timeline, whatever is going on here, we have to be careful what we tell them.”

   “Well Hermione, seeing as I don’t see the _lovely,_ white light that decided to drop us in the _past_ anywhere, I’m sure it’s safe to assume we’re stuck here...and just by being here we’ve changed the future already,” Ronald as she called him says sardonically, angling his head in her direction.

   “But-”

   “Would both of you, please, stop bickering?” Harry snaps from the middle. “Since we don’t know how we got here, we may as well introduce ourselves, and get this show on the road.” Except his words come out a bit slurred and funny since Sirius still has a firm grasp on his face.

   His two companions are silent for a moment before they both nod, “fine,” they chorus.

   “Right, I’m Hermione Granger,” the girl says stiffly, rolling one of her shoulders.

   “Ron Weasley, pleasure to make your acquaintance...though we kind of already met…” Ron trails off, and Remus gets the impression that he is probably now lost in thought.

   The middle boy takes a deep breath and then says the words that instantly make Remus’s blood run cold, because it simply couldn’t be possible, “my name is Harry Potter...and we’re from the future.”

   Remus doesn’t even get time to properly react before Sirius pulls back his hand and crashes his fist straight into the boy’s face.

  Harry stumbles back, head tipping upwards as he holds his face, “fuck’s sake.”

  Hermione clearly is not impressed, because she rams her elbow into James’s stomach, causing him to loosen his grip-just enough for her to slip out of his grasp-and she raises her wand at Sirius’s head.

  “I knew you were hot headed in your youth Sirius, but really...punching your Godson in the face?” Hermione tsks.

  Remus hears footsteps, and then appearing past a piece of rubble he sees reinforcements-they had probably wondered where they were since this was only meant to be a reconnaissance mission-Kingsley sees the scene, clearly making a rash assumption, and before Remus can tell him not to, a flash of red light flies out of his wand and slams into the curly haired witch.  


	4. Headquarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I hope you guys like this chapter, and please leave me a comment and let me know what you think.

  The girl's companions drew their wands to protect themselves after they had seen her fall to the ground, but merely defended themselves as opposed to attacking anyone else. Insisting that they didn't want to cause any trouble, and they would come quietly if everyone stopped  _ bloody _ attacking each other. Well, it was the ginger haired wizard that had said the last bit, scowling at Kingsley as he knelt beside the curly haired witch.

   After that, Kingsley transfigured some rocks into two blindfolds and instructed the two males to put them on. 

   Now they are back at Order Headquarters, and the three wix have been locked away in a small room upstairs until they can figure out what they are going to do with them.

   “How do we know they are who they say they are?” Sirius hisses lowly, sitting down roughly at the table-James, Remus, Peter and McGonagall are all sitting down already. Sirius pretends not to see McGonagall's stern stare.

   Minerva has one or two white hairs hiding amongst her inky black hair-which is currently pulled into a low bun that is sitting neatly against her nape. She is wearing midnight blue robes, the trim seemed to be cut from the night sky itself, shimmering as she walked. A pitch black, velvet coat is clasped around her neck, spelled to protect her from rain, wind and the other elements; not to mention keeping off stains and to prevent any permanent damage from inflicting the fabric.

   “There’s always legilimency,” a voice says softly from the open doorway. Remus didn’t need to look up, he can smell the lavender and lemon and immediately he knows that it is Dumbledore; Remus stares across the table at James, whose attention is raptly focused on the wizard at the door, Remus however is too busy trying to discern the differences between the boy and James to pay Dumbledore any mind.

  Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore is a dangerous man. Remus knows that most of his friends and colleagues practically worship him and hang off his every word...but he can't see the man for anything more than what he is. A  _ sweet _ , old man, who does what he think is necessary for the  _ greater  _ good. What is one life compared to hundreds, if not thousands?

   Half-moon spectacles, a long, silvery beard that comes down to the bottom of his abdomen, clear blue eyes that often sparkle, a slightly crooked nose, six foot four, towering over most. Albus Dumbledore appears to be a kind, loving man. Remus knows differently. He’s seen the other side of Dumbledore. The side that most of his friend's hadn't. The Dumbledore that had asked him-making it  _ seem  _ like a gentle prodding, or a request-that Remus join the Werewolf packs and learn the extent of their involvement with Voldemort.

   “Would they agree to that?” Minerva asks, standing up, and moving to greet the Headmaster, the distinct sound of her footsteps filling his ears.

   “Why would they have a choice?” Sirius frowns, “plus if they are who they say they are, then they should have no problem agreeing to it.”

   “Maybe because having someone poking about in your head is highly unpleasant,” Remus drawls, angling his head to the right, and meeting the grey eyes of his best mate.  Remus sighs softly, catching his lip ring under his top front teeth. “Even if someone as skilled as Dumbledore is doing it.”

   “How would you know?” Sirius narrows his eyes, “I thought Legilimency didn’t work on you since your head is filled with wolfy thoughts.”

_ Doesn’t mean he hasn’t tried,  _ Remus thinks internally, but outwardly he says, “that’s irrelevant, it doesn’t change the fact that allowing someone to access your memories and the most intimate details of your life will be a tad uncomfortable, Pads.”

  “Fair enough,” Sirius grunts, flicking his shoulder length hair over his shoulder.

   “I hear that you lost Miss McDonald out there today...I am sorry for your loss,” Dumbledore nods at them curtly, a truly grief stricken expression on his face, before he turns on his heel and disappears back through the doorway; McGonagall follows closely behind him, fixing the brim of her pointed, emerald hat as she does. Remus can hear their soft conversation as they walk, but he tunes them out, more focused on the remaining members at the table.

   “So what’s next?” James asks, intertwined fingers resting on the table in front of him, his eyes boring into the wooden surface.

   “We wait,” Remus responds softly, tapping his left index finger on the table, his other hand resting limply in his lap.

   Remus frowns as he notices even though Sirius and James both nod their agreement; Peter looks like he's broken out into a cold sweat, his pupils are dilated and he almost looks afraid. For the life of him, Remus can't figure out why. He makes a note to pull his friend aside in private later and ask what's troubling him. 

_ Now we wait,  _ Remus exhales harshly through his nostrils. He’ll give Sirius five minutes before he starts pacing.

* * *

   Hermione’s head is pounding, she can feel her temple throbbing, and she cracks her eyes open a fraction, deciding it is better to not sit up just yet.

  “Hermione!” Harry and Ron both exclaim, quickly joining her side. It takes a few moments but she finally manages to sit up, and she holds her head as the small room they’re being kept in starts spinning.

   The room is dark, and it seems like a storm has set in, at least she that's what she thinks based off of the heavy rain that is sharply hitting the single window in the room. The window is quite large, but she guesses that they probably warded it so they wouldn't be able to get out. Hermione thinks that maybe they could dismantle the wards if they truly wanted to, but banishes the thought as she remembers that they should stay and see this mess through. They didn't have anywhere else to go after all.

   The room is small, and the only furniture inside is a oak chair, it's cold and the air smells like pine. Two things that lead her to believe it's either Fall or Winter.

   Hermione briefly contemplates the Marauders that they've seen thus far. 

   Lupin has always been good looking, even as a weary, older wizard. She guessed after she figured out that he was a Werewolf, that being alone for so long and being without a pack had aged him significantly beyond his years. Especially since wizards tended to look much younger than they were since they lived on average for at least one hundred and twenty years.

   She hadn’t been prepared for this Remus, the lip biting Remus. The sinfully attractive Remus. The Remus who has a silver lip ring on the right side of his mouth, with intense hazel eyes and a long nose, and sandy blonde hair messily tousled on his head. The Remus with supple,  _ soft  _ looking lips, who looks strong, lithe, and powerful even with his figure hidden beneath jumpers and other thick clothing. 

   James looks almost exactly like Harry, or perhaps Harry looks exactly like James. Time travel made all these muddle together in a messy pile of confusion. James has warm, hazel eyes, though they were hard and cold earlier when he was assessing whether they were a threat or not. His hair is somehow  _ messier _ than Harry’s, an inky mop on top of his head, with square, black framed glasses, pale skin, and thick, dark eyebrows. Harry and his ‘father’ are definitely attractive wizards.

   Sirius. Sirius Orion Black. Hermione doesn't know how she feels about him yet. He’s just as rash, and stubborn as she thought he would be. Sirius is arguably the most attractive of the Marauders that she’s met so far, but in the end it comes down to personal preference she supposes.

    Sirius has shoulder length, raven hair, that he rakes his fingers through to give the wavy hair a bit more of a windswept look. Stormy grey eyes, light brown skin, broad shoulders, and he's  _ tall. _ Not as tall as Remus, but he's only a couple inches shorter than the other wizard. James is almost Sirius's height, but he’s the shortest out of their trio of friends. Hermione has yet to see Pettigrew, but she knows he's the shortest of the lot.

   Sirius is lean, muscular, and dangerous looking, lots of leather wearing, and he’s covered in tattoos.

   Hermione can't help but think in those moments, that she would rather a lip biting Remus any day. She's abruptly drawn from her thoughts when Ron calls her name, and she quickly turns to look at him; the throbbing in her head still persisting.

   “Harry and I have been talking,” Ron gestures between himself and Harry, “and we think that we need to figure out if Pettigrew is a spy yet or not.”

   “Well…” Hermione winces, the heavy shroud of pain that had previously occupied her skull is now ebbing away. “If we find out first whether there is a spy yet or not, then we can deal with Pettigrew accordingly,” Hermione sighs.

   “I think we should get Harry to use Legilimency on whoever is going to interrogate him,” Ron offers.

   “How do you know they’ll ask for Harry?”

   “They're all fascinated by him, you can tell. They're bound to ask for him. I’m pants at Legilimency, you know that, I can barely manage Occlumency...but you and Harry are brilliant at Legilimency, even if Harry is rubbish at Occlumency.”

   “You’d think that being a great Legilimens would extend to him being a slightly good Occlumens, but alas, that is not the case,” Hermione smiles wryly.

   “Hey! They're different okay, and just cause you're good at both…” Harry trails off, crossing his arms over his chest.

   “If it wasn't for me, neither of you would have tried to learn either of them when we were on the run,” Hermione rolls her eyes, reaching out and grasping both of her boy’s hands.

   It's only in that moment where she tries to think about  _ how  _ they had gotten here. That white light had emitted from her,  _ only  _ her.  _ Why _ it had, or  _ what _ it was, she's not sure she’ll ever find out. 

   Glancing at both of her boys, she's glad that both of them had come into the past with her, she isn't sure what she would have done without them.

   “Now what?” Harry asks, sitting back on his haunches, scrunching his nose.

   “Now we wait,” Hermione says, squeezing their hands gently.

_ Now we wait.  _

* * *

   Almost an hour later-an hour of having to watch Sirius pace back and forth anxiously, and James staring absently at a worn photograph, and Peter nervously gnawing on his bottom lip, refusing to meet any of their gazes-McGonagall comes back. She tells them in a stern tone that Dumbledore is ready for them to bring one of the wix to him in a room they readied down the Hall, and she warns them not to underestimate the wix that they have in holding, to be on their guard.

  The Marauders all silently get up, and Remus finds that he doesn't have a chance to ask Peter what’s troubling him, since Sirius keeps throwing out theories about who  _ they  _ really are on their way down the narrow, dimly lit corridor. If they aren't the  _ time travellers _ they claimed they are.

   James takes down the wards when they arrive in front of the unmarked, dark wooden door, and wand at the ready, he cautiously opens the door.

    “We’ve been instructed to bring you for questioning. You’ll be undergoing Legilimency.”

 “We thought you would suggest Legilimency,” the ginger lad with startling blue eyes says calmly, he is sitting on the ground against the wall in the small room. The bright green eyed boy is sitting backwards on the wooden chair, and the girl with the unruly curls had been pacing impatiently. She is now standing facing the door, arms crossed over her chest.

   “You only need to use it on one of us,” the witch adds, lifting her chin in a defiant manner, as if daring the Marauders to argue something to the contrary.

   “Dumbledore wants him,” James jerks his chin in his look-alike’s  direction.

   “No.” The girl growls, but then the raven haired boy stands up, sharing a look with his companion and she tilts her head, lips pressing into a thin line. “Harry.”

   “I’ll be fine, Hermione,” Harry says reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, before turning back to the Marauders.

   “Okay,” Harry says, striding to the door, halting in front of them, “lead the way.”


	5. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!!  
> I'm stressed as anything, and even though I desperately wanted to write today, I couldn't. I'm being smothered by my studies, which is why I am posting this chapter in order to help me feel a little better.  
> I hope you all like it, please leave a comment and let me know what you think :)

  The Marauders had guided Harry around twists and bends and corners, down stairs and down narrow, dimly lit hallways; until they reached the room where Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley were waiting. Remus and James led the way, and Sirius and Peter were behind Harry. The five wizards entered the previously silent room noisily, bustling in, shoes scuffing the wooden floorboards as they tried to keep an eye on Harry and all get into the room at the same time. 

   Sirius grabbed Harry’s upper arm and led him towards the front where Dumbledore was waiting. That had been a few minutes ago, now the air is tense, so thick it almost feels harder to breathe, and all the persons present in the room are waiting with baited breath to see how everything plays out.

   Remus knows everyone is watching Harry-who is sitting in what looks like a highly uncomfortable chair, at the front of the room-however his eyes find themselves locked on Dumbledore.

  The gentle looking wizard appears to be very relaxed, a silent confidence in his eyes. Remus realises in that moment that Dumbledore doesn’t think anything in the boy’s mind can shock him. Dumbledore raises his wand, palm facing upwards, wrist slack.

  “Wait,” Harry says suddenly. A fierce look in his eyes, “I must warn you, whatever you see you can’t unsee. I should also mention that if this isn't a different dimension as Hermione suspects, then we could be altering the future...drastically,” Harry says in a grave tone. Remus notes that Harry suddenly appears to age a few years, his face looks weary, as if he has seen unspeakable things, things that haunt him every time he closes his eyes. What could possibly happen in the future, to do that to someone who couldn’t be older than them?

   Dumbledore’s expression still hasn’t changed, he is the epitome of cool and collected, he clearly thinks that the boy is exaggerating, but Remus sees a flicker of something he can’t quite identify flash in the older wizard’s eyes.

  “May I proceed now...Mister-”

  “Potter, Harry Potter,” Harry smiles stiffly-rubbing the back of his neck, his other hand hanging limply between his open legs; in that moment the members that hadn’t been present that morning suck in a sharp breath, their suspicions confirmed.

    Dumbledore once more raises his wand, and Remus now shifts his attention to Harry. The young wizard’s eyes have fluttered closed, and his mouth is set in a thin line.

   Remus leans against the wall on his right. The other Marauders and himself are standing a little ways away from the other occupants in the room. Remus doesn’t notice that Peter’s knees are knocking together, or that he’s nervously chewing at the side of his cuticles.

    “Bit anti-climatic,” Sirius whispers harshly so only the Marauders can hear him, and Remus rolls his eyes.

    “I don’t think he-” Remus jerks his chin at Harry, “-would agree with you.”

    “It would be faster if Dumbledore got some memories for the pensieve and showed it to everyone wouldn’t it?” James asks, leaning forward, his face right beside Remus's and he can feel James's hot breath dancing across his cheek. His best mate sighs before dropping his head on Remus’s shoulder. 

_ Then Dumbledore couldn't control who sees what,  _ Remus thought wryly. These three teenagers were a fresh variable, one the old man hadn't worked into his plans yet. He couldn't be sure if _ they  _ would jeopardize his carefully concocted plans or not yet.

   It was long, arduous. Sirius slid down the wall ten minutes ago, and is now sitting with his knees to his chest, legs spread apart, hands limp by his sides, and his head thrust back against the wall. 

   Ten minutes. Twenty. The clock is ticking harshly in Remus's ears, and even Minerva is fighting off boredom and drowsiness. Sirius's soft snores are whistling through the room.

   James however doesn't seem any less focused that when Dumbledore started, which is surprising to say the least. He’s staring-like a starved man who hasn’t seen food in weeks-at the pair of wizards at the front. It then occurs to Remus that  _ of course  _ James would be interested. This boy is possibly his son, whether it's from another dimension as the boy mentioned, or not.

   Remus spots Peter over his shoulder as he pries his eyes away from the focused look in James's.

  The boy is a shaking mess, how no one else has seen that is astounding. He’s wringing his hands together, and Remus sees that his cuticles are bleeding. He’s shaking like a leaf in the cold Autumn wind before it falls from its’ tree.

  Remus feels worry surge up inside him, and he turns to take a step towards his friend when two things happen.

   First, Dumbledore gasps loudly and backs away from Harry. Panting heavily, breath shuddering in and out of his mouth, and his right arm is flailing out for him to grasp onto something.

   Second, the door blows inward and it falls to the side, off its hinges.

   “You didn't leave anyone to guard us,  _ really _ ?” a female voice says past the slight dust cloud that has kicked up, and Remus can’t resist the tiny smile that touches his lips.

   Hermione and Ron step into the room, hands in the air, wands held delicately as to prove they mean no harm. Remus somehow gets the impression that that's more for everyone’s peace of mind, than anything else.

   “Did you figure out yet if he’s the spy or not, Harry?” the curly haired girl asks in a no-nonsense tone. She purses her lips and cocks an eyebrow as she ignores all of the gaping wix-who are frozen in place, no clue what to do as they stare at her in shock.

   Harry nods grimly, and before anyone can move or say anything else, Hermione effortlessly slips her wand into her hand properly and she yells, “ _ incarcerous! _ ” Remus's eyes widen as the spell flies in his general direction, before he sees her true target. Peter.


	6. Everyone Remain Calm

  In the flurry of movement that follows Hermione’s attack on Peter, Remus sees one interaction that stands out sharply against the rest of it.

  Ron and Hermione’s wands are wrenched from their grasp, and they stand there looking slightly irritated, but they don’t do anything further.

  They both turn to see who has a hold of their wands, and Remus watches as Ron’s eyes widen exponentially. Remus follows his line of sight and sees Arthur Weasley. Remus hasn’t really interacted with the older man much, aside from a bit of small talk here and there. They are in different stages of their lives, so the number of topics they have to work with are limited. Arthur is married with children, and Remus is only a year out of Hogwarts, with no girlfriend and he doesn’t think he will ever want children; if only to keep them from being damned with his curse.

   “ _Dad_?” Ron says, inadvertently taking a step towards the other redhead. Remus frowns lightly, but then he sees it. Arthur is a bit older, a bit taller, his nose is a bit longer, his face is a bit rounder, he’s dressed in a thick woollen sweater, slacks and brown leather shoes, his hairstyle is completely different with his ginger hair falling over his ears, with long bangs that almost get in his eyes; but otherwise they look almost exactly alike.

  “I beg your pardon?” Arthur stumbles over his words, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “You’re Arthur Weasley, right?” Ron asks, eyebrows creeping up his forehead.

  “Indeed I am,” Arthur responds, eyebrows knitting together, and Remus can hear the sound of Arthur’s foot beginning to tap ringing in his ears.

  “Bloody hell,” Ron whistles, rubbing his head with his right hand, once again looking at Arthur in awe. “Well, certainly wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

  “ _Enough_!” James yells, huffing, shoulders moving up and down rapidly as he glares at Hermione. “Why the fuck did you attack Peter?” James flings his hand out in Peter’s direction, and Remus turns to the left, noticing for the first time that Sirius is kneeling beside the silently sobbing boy, trying to pull the ropes from his body. In fact, it looks like the more Sirius pulls, the tighter the thick ropes get-cutting and rubbing painfully into Peter’s skin from the agony filled look on his face.

   “You think he’s the spy,” Remus guesses, astutely from the small smile she shoots his way before her lips curl into a displeased look.

   “We _know_ he’s the spy,” Ron rolls his eyes, as if it should be entirely obvious, and believing anything to the contrary is foolish. “We don’t think. We know. We’re from the _future_ remember?”

   There is a long, tense silence, the only sound is Peter’s sobs, Sirius’s frustrated grunts and everyone’s breathing.

   “We could give you the long spiel, but I think providing pensieve memories for everyone should suffice, that way you can all confirm who we are for yourselves” Harry speaks up for the first time since the whole mess began a few minutes ago.

   “Are you saying that Dumbledore’s word is not enough?” Minerva asks coldly, gesturing to the man who is still rooted in place, eyes darting about frantically at all of them. Remus can’t help but think that Dumbledore being anything but calm after going through the boy’s mind, can’t be a good thing.

  “H-How did you know that he was already the spy...that we even had a spy yet?’ Dumbledore rasps.

  “When you were searching my mind, I was searching yours-” Harry shrugs, upon seeing Dumbledore’s eyes widen a fraction he tacks on, “-don’t worry, I kept it to recent events, I merely needed to know if there was a spy yet or not. If there was, then I would know it was Pettigrew.”

  “How do you know it’s Peter?” Sirius growls, forgetting his task of freeing Peter for a moment, getting up and storming towards Harry, stopping abruptly in front of him. Before anyone can react, Sirius’s wand is out and he yells, “ _Legilimens_!”

   Remus gasps softly, Sirius isn’t thinking straight, he’s downright volatile at the moment. He’s not a skilled Legilimens either, which means this will be an excruciating process for the boy as Sirius stomps and stumbles naively through his mind.

  Remus’s suspicions are confirmed when Harry throws back his head in pain, eyes clenched shut, a piercing scream cutting through the room. His body writhes and shakes violently until he’s thrust from his chair and he’s shifting in agony on the ground.

  “NO!” Hermione’s heart wrenching cry stabs at the air, and she’s struggling against Ron’s hold as he prevents her from throwing herself on Sirius; the redhead is making shushing noises and hugging her to him as he looks over her head at his friend with grief and pain, as if it was him on the ground and not Harry.

  They can’t do anything but wait, wait as Harry screams, as Hermione screams, as Dumbledore watches on with a cold kind of detachment, Minerva shaking Dumbledore’s shoulder and begging him to do something, anything.

  Time seems to stretch for an eternity, yet it is over in less than a second.

  Sirius stumbles backwards, gasping, and wildly looking around, until his eyes fall on Peter. He glances at James briefly, and then he lets out a strangled, broken cry as he charges towards Peter. “You, filthy rat!”

  Remus steps into Sirius’s path, blocking him from getting to Peter, and swiftly, without hesitation whispers, “ _stupefy_.”

  James looks at Remus with rage as Sirius crumples to the ground, the red spell had knocked him unconscious. Remus sees Hermione and Ron rush to Harry’s side in his peripherals.

  Remus calmly says, “we need to figure out what’s going on, and to remain calm. Sirius was clearly highly emotional, and he would have done something he regrets, _again_ ,” Remus says the last word with such force and venom, that it silences James.

  “Now does anyone want to clarify what the fuck is going on?” Remus cocks an eyebrow at the room of gaping individuals.

  “We know Peter is the spy, we found out in our third year. He was in hiding in his animagus form, he had been for twelve years. He was Ron’s rat,” Hermione says shakily, fighting back tears.

  “There was a prophecy, about someone who could defeat Voldemort-” at the scandalised gasps in the room, Hermione pauses, but she merely scoffs before she continues, “-someone else told Voldemort about it, so Dumbledore insisted that Lily and James be moved to a safe house whilst Lily was still pregnant, as well as Alice and Frank. Both of their sons would fit the prophecy, but Voldemort chose Harry...on October thirty-first in nineteen eighty-one, he made his move. Killing Lily and James, and attempting to kill Harry, but being thwarted. It was how Harry got his scar, it was why Harry was known throughout the wizarding world as its _saviour_.”

   “Sirius feared that they would come for him, that it would be dangerous having him be the secret keeper...and Remus and him weren't on speaking terms, not really, he had been away you see-” Hermione’s eyes flick up to him then, and he takes in a deep breath when the next few words fall from her lips, “-he was away, in the werewolf packs, under Dumbledore’s command.”

  “So Sirius turned to their only other friend, Peter, the only one he trusted wholly without question.”

  “They didn’t know he was the spy, had been for years, they didn’t know that he was going to betray them,” Harry chokes out, and Hermione’s head flies in his direction, and she’s asking him if he’s alright before he waves her off.

  “Then he framed Sirius for the whole thing, and he went to Azkaban for twelve years,” Ron finishes, but then the redhead’s eyes widen and he adds casually, “oh, and that’s only one part...do you all still think that Dumbledore’s word is good enough, or do you want to use the pensieve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I think I may just post a new chapter every day until I catch up to where I am on ffnet. It'll help with not being able to write for the majority of the next two weeks, drowning in studying at the moment.  
> I hope you all like this chapter, leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


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